Pulling the Strings
by A'isha Ishtar
Summary: Chakra strings or heartstrings... they're all the same. All easy to control, to manipulate. The only difference is that heartstrings are much easier to manipulate. Does it really matter who's pulling the strings, as long as someone is? Sasori/OC
1. Chapter 1

He'd been watching her for a while now.

He wasn't quite sure how long it had been since he had first seen her. Two months... three, maybe. Or had it been longer? Time was somewhat relative to him, now that he had all the time in the world. An impatient person, time passed quickly for him. He was always telling his partner, "Where have you been? It's already been an hour!" So maybe it only felt like a short time when really it had been longer that he had been watching her.

Leader-sama had tricked him into accepting this mission. He had waited until they were actually stationed in Sunagakure to call and inform them that this would be an intelligence gathering mission. They were not to come back for six months. But how much of that time had passed since they'd arrived? If it had been longer than four months, that meant their time here would soon be up and they'd have to return to base. He'd have to leave this oh-so interesting young woman behind.

From what he learned, her name was Ayatsuri. He didn't know her last name, but he was sure it was as artistically beautiful as her first. She didn't look a day over eighteen, but he had his doubts. After all, a well-respected woman in this village, barely a legal adult? Please. She had to be older than that. How much older, he didn't know. She had to be younger than twenty-five. She definitely didn't look older than that.

She was a puppeteer, but not for combat purposes. She was employed at the theater on the west side of town, where she performed with her own puppets.

Sasor had seen her puppets, when she was all alone packing them up and getting ready to leave the theater. They were _beautiful_... some of them achingly so, and at times he got jealous of them. Most of them were female, but there were a few male. But they were all beautiful, regardless of gender; she undoubtedly put such work into making them, completely by hand. This was a girl who had nothing better to do with her time than make dolls... which, admittedly, was a little unsettling for someone her age. It worried him a little, but when she showed up with a new puppet that worry dissipated and he was just excited to see it.

An odd thing about her was that she named her puppets. Most people who worked in puppet theaters like the one she worked in, they just had one set of puppets - a man, a woman, a child, a baby, and possibly some animals - and assigned them names based on the script they were performing. But Ayatsuri... she was different. She had at least 25 puppets, and all of them were distinct, even if it was just one or two traits that differed. He knew exactly which one each was. The one with the blonde hair and red eyes was Hinode; the one who had black hair and silver eyes was Tsukiko. The male one whose face usually wore a beast's head but could be transformed back into a man was Kobake. Each one of them was unique, with traits that made it difficult to just assign roles.

And when Ayatsuri performed with her puppets, they weren't legends; he didn't recognize any of the stories she told. He assumed that, because her dolls were all different and he had no idea about any of the tales, that she made up her own, centered around her puppets.

He watched her _every_ move sometimes. There were instances where he would leave Deidara at the theater to terrorize some poor amateur puppeteer, and he would follow Ayatsuri home. And of course he'd never _meant_ to see her topless, but she still had her bra on so it wasn't really that bad or wrong. He was just observing her, and she'd happened to take her shirt and pants off to reveal her underclothes. And besides, what was beneath her clothes was desperately intriguing to a master puppeteer like him.

In between where her bra ended and her panties began, her body bore the appearance of wood. Pale, milky, sanded-down-to-smooth wood. To anyone who was uneducated in the art of puppetry, it would look simply like the girl's own creamy-complexioned midriff. But something was off about this portion of her skin, compared to her face, neck, and arms. Trained with an eye that picked out details like a fine-toothed comb over a six-month-old's downy-covered head, Sasori noticed things about this area of her flesh. He saw little marks and swirls across it, like the grain of wood. Virtually imperceptible, but he saw it. And the fact that certain parts of it seemed to stick out, like splinters. If Ayatsuri noticed this, she would rush into the bathroom; he didn't follow her, out of decency and respect for privacy. When she returned to her main bedroom, the offending "splinter" was gone, leaving him to wonder if perhaps it had just been his imagination after all.

Something was odd about the puppet master Ayatsuri, that much was for sure. But _what_ it was, Sasori honestly admitted that for once, he didn't know.

But he fully intended to find out.

**OK... yeah. Can't really explain this one, I have NO idea where it came from. But I already like Ayatsuri... so don't take her away, please? And review! You will make Sasori-chan VERY VERY SAD if you don't review. :D It's a little shorter than most of my chapters but not by much and hey, it's a prologue anyway so it has the RIGHT to be shorter. XD**

**Thanks for reading and hope you liked! ^^**


	2. Chapter 2

**WOW. It's been a looooong time since I've done anything Naruto-related, hasn't it? Blehh. I don't even know what brought this on, I just got this urge to look over my Naruto stories, and then I was all "... Meh. I feel like writing Naruto. How odd."**

**I promised Sasori I would finish this chapter before I began to retool my old-ass Gaara story. Saso-chan has been peeking over my shoulder and poking the side of my head, telling me to write. Jerk. But at least it got me motivated.**

**So, I'm hoping you all haven't forgot about me, and I'm reeeaaaaaally sorry it took me so long to churn myself back into a Naruto mood.**

**Enjoy Sasori's musings and the slight cliffie!**

* * *

_Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up._

_-Neil Gaiman, __The Sandman, Vol. 9: The Kindly Ones_

* * *

Months of continuing to observe Ayatsuri had no real purpose anymore. Once Sasori and Deidara had finished their espionage for the day, there was really little else for them to do. Sometimes they stayed in their hotel room, conducting and recording a bull session or two. (It was by Sasori's demand that the tape recorder be on, while Deidara just thought it was ridiculous.)

More often than not, Sasori would change out of his robes, into a casual shirt and pants, and go attend one of the later puppet shows at the theater. Deidara tagged along most of the time, but only because he was bored and preferred to have something to do. Usually he just complained the whole time; Sasori didm'ymind so much about that, because he had yet to see a late show that featured Ayatsuri and her puppets. (Also, the brat wasn't hard to ignore and just tune out.) He knew this was because she packed up and left before five o'clock. But he hoped, sometimes, that she might come back.

He wanted to see more of her tales. Perhaps he had already seen them all? He was always there in the audience during the daytime shows, when he could - when it was Deidara's turn to conduct the mission. He was unseen, without admission, but he was always there. The darkness served as his cloak then, while he secretly and silently watched Ayatsuri perform. She used chakra strings on her puppets, as opposed to some people - amateurs compared to her - simply used wooden marionette controls. Chakra strings were better, though, as they made the motions smoother.

Sometimes, Sasori just watched Ayatsuri's fingers move - for a puppeteer, their fingers were their livelihood. Her movements were fluid, elegant. Her fingers bent perfectly when need be, and each swish of her hands was quick, deliberate. Every flick of her fingers or twirl of her wrists served a purpose. When she performed, it was like her hands were dancing. It was breathtaking to watch... she didn't waste a single second.

What a skilled... beautiful... artistic... woman she was. So delicate, and yet so strong. He hadn't been intrigued like this in years. Intrigued, and... strangely... turned on.

He had seen it just a few more times. The smooth, flawless skin that lie beneath her top. He wished sometimes that he could just touch it, but that would be impossible without having her see him. If he could touch it, he would _know._ It would either feel like flesh, confirming her as a human, or like wood... confirming her as something else entirely. He wasn't even sure which he would be more pleased by. She was perfect, _too perfect..._ like a beautiful, high-quality, expertly crafted doll.

Perfection always hid imperfection. To find out that this perfect girl was indeed human, would that be satisfying? Or would he be more satisfied to find that she was like him? He didn't know, but he wanted to. Whatever she was, he would still delight in watching her. She was interesting, living life in Sunagakure and yet not like anyone else in this village. Like she was blocked off from everyone else, in her own little dollhouse of routines, traveling back and forth and paying others no mind.

If only they might be perfect and away from the world together.

* * *

It was late. Too late for Sasori to even be outside of the hotel room. But he couldn't help being attracted to the theater now, what with the news he'd been hearing around town. Deidara was asleep, having turned in hours ago, and he probably didn't even know his partner was gone. Of course, it was only fitting that a brat from Iwagakure would sleep like a rock.

And there it was, the confirmation of his fears, in obnoxiously bright letters above the door of the theater. _Going out of business. Effective in one week._

Where would he go now? He stared at the sign, not quite sure what to think. If the theater was closing, where would Ayatsuri go to perform? She would have to perform in the streets, if she even continued to do it at all. According to his observations, most puppeteers were sensitive people, her included; didn't take well to any kind of criticisms. In fact, if he were one of them working at the theater, he'd be offended and interpret it as a scathingly negative review. Probably the first words out of his mouth would be, _What, our shows aren't good enough?_

He hadn't been so worried in a long time. How was he going to find her again if she left? A less hasty person with more patience might not be so concerned, thinking he had plenty of time to track her down again.

But Sasori was not a patient man. They had roughly a month left on this mission, and it would be boring without Ayatsuri to watch. It would feel like the time was dragging on forever. That was how he always felt, but watching her made everything... different. Time passed so quickly when his eyes were on her - it was as if he could spend a whole eternity looking at her, watching her different routines, and it could feel like only a few hours had passed.

And he... he didn't want that to go away.

It was something he barely ever remembered experiencing... but it wasn't unpleasant. It was like he had all the time in the world to be lazy, and would just be content to look at her for the rest of all that time. Even if he never spoke to her, he simply desired to watch her walk, to watch her manipulate her puppets, to watch her live up to her name. To watch her smile. All that for the rest of forever, and he may not die a truly _happy_ man... but at least he should die smiling.

_A nice thought, __**ne?**_ he sighed mentally.

Sasori glanced around and made his way to the back entrance. He wasn't sure he'd seen Ayatsuri even go home earlier. The brat had dragged him away from watching her, arguing something about having seen a suspicious man. Lo and behold, the "suspicious man" was gone by the time Sasori had been dragged back to where Deidara had seen the man. Needless to say, neither artist was very happy about that, although the blonde suggested they just go back to the hotel; the puppet master had reluctantly agreed, only because it had been getting late by then.

He was still tired, having only gotten about an hour of sleep. His puppet body didn't need much, but sleep was one of the things he still needed... though not as much as he had before. Pushing the door open, he resolved to go straight back to the hotel as soon as this was done. He just wanted to make sure Ayatsuri wasn't still here. He was fairly sure she wasn't, but his idiotic heart was still human and wouldn't let him rest until he checked.

It was pitch black inside, but luckily his eyes were perfectly adjusted to darkness. He could see very well, although stepping in he didn't see much. This was the backstage part of the theater, where puppeteers got ready to perform. A few small vanities, a chest of spare supplies, a couple of brooms in the corner. "Hmm." He took another step, glancing around. He didn't see her. "I suppose," he muttered, "that I can assume she made it home safely..."

Something creaked. A bit surprised, he quickly raised his head and looked from one side to the other. He had stopped moving himself, and would rather not move unnecessarily as most humans did... so he couldn't have made that sound. And this building was fortified as all other buildings in Sunagakure were, with a floor made not of wood or clay but simply of the dirt and dust beneath the population's feet.

There was someone in here with him.

He flattened his hands against his sides, moving his arms slightly and ready to attack if need be. Who besides him would be inside a going-out-of-business puppeteers' theater at midnight? "Show yourself," he called. He kept his voice calm and unassuming as usual, but with an undertone of danger. Perhaps if they understood that he wasn't someone to be messed with, they would rethink their actions and retreat. "Who's there?"

Something made a _clack_ noise, like the sound of a high-heeled shoe on a tile floor. But there was no tile floor here. Someone walking on the walls...?

Then there was a _whoosh,_ and a girlish giggle. Followed by a voice he was mildly shocked to find that he recognized, "Akasuna no Sasori? You should know who is here... after all, I believe you know every detail of my life now... _ne~?_"

* * *

**OH TOTAL CLIFFHANGER.**

**Although I'm sure you all know who's speaking there. Hehe, Sasori, on the offensive already.**

**I feel a little sad for Sasori-danna sometimes... but then I can give him Ayatsuri so he can be happy and they can love each other. Err, eventually. He likes her, of course, but every relationship has its ups and downs...**

**Hope you enjoyed!**

**Thanks for reading! ^^**


End file.
